


An Unexpected Arrival

by girlnamedlance



Category: That Guy with the Glasses/Channel Awesome
Genre: Abuse of Rideshare drivers, Off-Screen Murder, Person covered in blood, Post-Suicide Squad (2016), Snob is a creeper, Snob takes one for the team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 19:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11191782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlnamedlance/pseuds/girlnamedlance
Summary: Every office has that coworker that mostly keeps to themselves until something big happens, and no one wants to deal with them. The Cinema Snob is that coworker.





	An Unexpected Arrival

The Nostalgia Critic was having a productive afternoon, answering emails and making phone calls to secure some props for the next review. “...What do you mean you can’t find one giant inflatable Roswell alien in the whole city of Chicago?... Oh yeah Pride is coming up, isn’t it… Nevermind, I’ll take the live ox.”

Malcolm opened his office door without knocking. “Uh, Critic?”

“Not now, Malcolm, I’m working double-time getting things together for the Emoji Movie review! Jim hasn’t shown up for work once since he was the Joker! --Yeah put it on the Nostalgia Critic account. The Bat one. Great! Thanks!” Critic finally hung up the phone and turned in his chair to face Malcolm. His face shifted into something a bit more confused. “You look pale, what’s going on?”

“The Cinema Snob’s here. He’s waiting for you out front.”

Critic felt his gut drop out from under him. Unannounced Snob visits never meant good things.

He left his office and went out into the main entry of the studio. On this bright sunny afternoon, Snob’s silhouette as seen through the doors was ominous. He could tell that he was standing with his legs apart and his arms crossed, so clearly he meant business. The light fluttering of his jacket in the summer wind was a nice added touch. The guy had style when he wanted to, Critic supposed.

“Why doesn’t he just come in?” Critic asked, mostly to himself.

“Hell no! We don’t want anything he’s been involved in getting traced here!” Tamara answered from where she had taken up a cowering position behind Malcolm. “We’ve all seen enough CSI to know better!”

Critic knew there was a lot wrong with how CSI handled technical matters related to actual criminal forensics and almost started into a relevant rant, but the imposing figure of the Snob made him decide that more qualified reviewers had already talked that subject to death, so he moved on to the more pressing matter.

Critic went through the doors and was finally able to see what had scared the normally stalwart Malcolm and Tamara. The Cinema Snob’s face and hands were soaked in blood. And the look on his face was so full of manic glee he looked like he was in a one-man remake of Psycho. This state he was in just punctuated the lack of lenses in his glasses, as they would probably have been too covered in blood to be useful.

Snob didn’t say anything immediately, he just held up his phone. On the screen, under the smears of blood, was a receipt for an Uber ride from Springfield to Chicago. “Two hundred dollars? Don’t you own a car?” Critic objected.

“Put it on my expense account,” Snob snarled. “Of course _that_ is the main problem you focus on when a man shows up on your doorstep covered in blood.”

“Sure, but you showing up somewhere covered in blood is like the Nerd showing up somewhere angry. It’s just kind of expected.”

“Fair point, but that’s not the real problem here. Look,” Snob jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the Uber driver he had hired was having a bit of trouble unloading a massive duffle bag from the trunk. 

“Shouldn’t you be doing that yourself?” Critic questioned.

Snob scoffed. “Nah, that’s why you tip them $50, sometimes they’ll be so grateful you’ll even get a happy ending.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Snob, you shouldn’t harass the girls like that, they’re just trying to make a living--”

“I never said anything about the girls,” Snob replied coolly, going out of his way to make eye contact with Critic.

Critic just swallowed. “Right. Please tell me there’s not a dead body in that bag.”

“He wasn’t when I put him in there.”

Finally the bag was out of the trunk and on the pavement. “I’m done, I’m outta here,” the driver said. “You’re a fucked-up person.”

“One star,” Snob said, as he went through the review functions on his phone. “Have fun getting out of Chicago on a weekday after four! Hah!”

“Asshole!” the driver flipped him off before she got in her car and sped away, tires screeching.

“Next time I’m using Lyft for my dubious transportation needs,” Snob grumbled.

Critic noticed the bag started wiggling. He went over to unzip it. “Jim?!”

Jim looked a little worse for wear. He was still wearing the Joker costume from the Suicide Squad review, though there was plenty of dirt and holes in it. The makeup was patchy at best. “What the hell did you do to him?” Critic jumped back up on his feet and looked him squarely in Snob’s smug face. They can be dicks sometimes, but his team was his family.

“I didn’t do anything to him! I found him stumbling around Lower Wacker like this on my way up here! He wanted me to put him in the bag!”

“What?”

“It’s true…” Jim, or Jared-Leto-as-Joker said. “I thought it would be a hell of an entrance…that was before the driver got on Halsted.”

Critic suddenly understood the state Jim was in. “You poor bastard. Go head inside and clean up, okay? You’ve suffered enough.” Critic helped Jim up, and once they were a safe distance from the Cinema Snob, Malcolm and Tamara came out to help Jim the rest of the way back inside.

“See, I did you a favor! Seeya!” Snob started to walk away, fiddling with his phone to summon another ride.

“Wait a minute! That doesn’t explain anything! You were already covered in blood and on your way up here when you found Jim, so what were you really up to?” 

“Oh yeah, I need to tender my resignation. Here,” he reached into his jacket and pulled out a letter. He held it out to Critic as if the blood smears on it were a non-issue.

Critic hesitantly reached out and took it between two fingertips on a dry spot. “Why?”

“It’s simple, really,” Snob shrugged. “I had to save the world from the greatest evil its ever known.”

“What evil? War? Satan himself? Jared Leto’s method acting?”

“Worse. Someone greenlit Nukie 2. I had to purify the world of that evil now before it grew in strength and power until none could oppose it,” he held his hands out at his sides as if he were explaining his innocence.

Critic pulled a face. “So you went on a murder spree in the production offices and then came right up here to quit?”

“Yup. I have to go on the lam now. Maybe I’ll reboot my show one day to its dark and gritty origins. Dark as in a dark basement and gritty as in the crap I had to sit in in order to get in frame.”

“Godspeed my friend,” Critic said, holding a hand out for a shake.

“It’s been real,” Snob replied, accepting the handshake. 

Snob went on his way when his next ride arrived, and Critic tried not to notice the immediate screaming of the Lyft driver when Snob got in the car.

Critic held his hand out in front of him stiffly. “Malcolm? Tamara?”

“Yeah?” they said, coming closer.

“I need to go to the hospital and get tested.”

“What for?” Malcolm asked.

“Everything.”


End file.
